My Byron
by alternativename
Summary: -Harry vanquished the dark lord. He devoted himself to the safety of the wizarding world, and they shun him. Throwing him in jail. Now Severus is all Harry has, especially since he doesn't have himself.. OOTP compatible, nothing else. *More T tbh*
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** All JR's –as always, she deserved the credit, not me. ^^

**Rating:** Pffft, no idea. It's slash-ish. I'm just gonna say mature, just in case!

**A.N:** My loyal readers are going to hate me for posting this instead of updating, sorry! I am meant to be writing Snape as a dark-ish character write now, but since watching Sense & Sensibilities I can't stop seeing him as all gooey inside! So I wrote this, to get it out of my system. –Of course, it was supposed to be a one-shot.

-New note: This is going to be quite a long fic now, I don't mind (:

**Warnings:** Slash. Depression. Un-betaed work, haha! Just, generally not for easily offended eyes.

**Beta:** Recently beta-ed by the wonderful moonlight—kiss (tumblr name) Thank you!

**1.**

Potter was never supposed to go to Azkaban. It was in that moment that Severus finally redefined Harry. Before then, Severus had learned to tolerate, converse and even aid the boy... But never, ever quite allowed himself to relinquish his past thoughts.

It wasn't when Potter sacrificed his final year of schooling to be trained. It wasn't the hours and the pain he put in. It wasn't the grief that hit the boy as his friends died around him. It wasn't the victory over the tyrant Voldemort... It wasn't even the way Harry refused to acknowledge himself as the saviour... It was all… It was all just ingrained behaviour... It wasn't really Potter, it was his father. His godfather. It was Dumbledore's attention and the wizarding world's admiration... Not that Severus could see it that way anymore.

The moment when it happened, Harry was sentenced, and the boy – and yes he really was just a boy – turned to Severus, the only person this boy had left and said, "But it was all for them". And it was then Severus realized that Harry Potter was worth Lily's sacrifice... Because he had sacrificed himself. Sacrificed himself for every other mother's child…

Many protested, but it didn't stop him getting a sentence. Severus was forced to go home, and stare at the room Harry had stayed in between the end of the war and the trial... What, had it even been three weeks? Harry had been writing an account of what had happened during the war, something Severus had suggested. The boy wanted to put it all away before he left. Ever the teacher, Severus had told him he was being ridiculous, that the trial was just a formality. A point the new minister was making that no more crimes would be committed, and that "Potter, as always, you have nothing to worry about when it comes to the rules you have broken."

They committed him for murder, committed him for involvement and an instigator of war… And that under Harry's liege, the wizarding world had been dragged into a dark hole of war... Severus had never understood the term "a watershed moment." But he did then, because he saw that Harry only ever had good intentions... He'd only ever lied, stolen or broke a rule because it was the only thing he could do to protect others. That the only reason he was the 'saviour' was because Voldemort had marked him so. And so forth everyone else had molded him to be so; even Severus himself had trained Harry... There was not a selfish bone in the boy's body... Never lone an evil one.

Staring at the shabbily made bed – Severus did not permit house elves in bedroom – he knew that the sole good thing in the entire wizarding world was currently in the darkest place in existence.

He went every day. He knew his own health and wellbeing was suffering, but all that did was remind him that Harry was there. He wasn't permitted to bring anything in with him but his wand, and spells did not work inside the cells. All he could do was conjure himself a chair and talk to Harry through the bars. Harry stopped speaking after the first week, but one of the last things he said was that he liked the sound of Severus' voice. Unable to bring the books he'd like to, Severus recited every poem, sonnet, play and even potions manual he knew. Struggling to just keep speaking, keep attempting to engage Harry…

Each time he left, he conjured his patronus to stand guard. It would last a good six hours at least… And hopefully Harry would have a peaceful sleep in that time.

Three months it took, but finally after all the campaigning, Harry was free. His power was placed under a monitoring spell, much a like those in his school years, and was placed back in Severus's care.

Severus side apparated the boy straight to his house, landing firmly in the apparition room. Harry was still standing, but as soon as Severus allowed the boy down, he retched. Marring the white floors, although the ex-potions master found himself struggling to be angry at all.

He lifted the small boy – who was really a man; a strong toned man, but Azkaban had already stolen that from him – and carried him to the bathroom. Severus was surprised by his ability to care. He bathed Potter, always ensuring that the ex-Gryffindor didn't slip under the water, and slowly healed the physical damage. There wasn't really much; it was the mental affliction that had locked the boy in silence.

He clothed their saviour and placed him in a warm bed; the lights dimmed softly but kept on. Severus had known Azkaban prisoners; he knew that darkness was not welcome. He conjured a soft chair beside the bed and picked a book. Something complex, which Severus had never managed to commit to memory or perhaps just Wordsworth tonight.

Harry was silent, impassive, and Severus was scared to leave. Scared to what he'd return to, or what leaving the boy by himself right now would mean. In the end he fell asleep, and when he awoke Harry had hardly moved. It was the fits; the fits and the nightmares that pushed Severus to join their rooms. He moved his bedroom next to Harry's and created a grand arch in the wall between.

Making Harry eat was the hardest. He constantly worried that if he placed food in the boy's mouth he'd just choke. It was getting better though; Harry would sometimes open his mouth to food. A few bites and then Severus had to implement the mechanics. But it was a start. A few weeks in and Harry was actually listening to the words Severus said. His eyes would open if Severus stopped for an unknown reason or if he said something unusual. Now and again Severus was sure he saw a small, albeit, sad smile.

It was Byron that provoked the first words. Severus had started reading the man's work the day before, but today Harry had smiled when Severus said he was going to read him again. When Severus had finished, he wanted to be sure, so he asked a question. Something he rarely did, as the lack of response terrified him. It was easier to pretend that, like before. In Hogwarts, he didn't need to hear Harry's voice, instead, he'd lectured him. Or at least, read to him. But today, curiosity and hope got to him.

"Should I carry on with Byron's work tomorrow?"

"Yes." Severus felt his heart glow; there was hope yet.

"Then of course, I shall oblige you."

Healing was slow; painfully slow. There were times were Severus was resigned to the fact that Harry would never heal. But there were sweets moments where Harry unfurled. Words were few and far between, but they were there. A tiny 'yes' to a question, a 'please' if Severus was sacrificing his dignity particularly well. Because yes, it took a lot of patience and kind words to help Harry.

When Severus tried to apologize for those years; for the bitter relationship between them, he failed miserably. Who'd have thought that talking to a silent person would be harder than an inanely chattering child...? Not that Harry really ever was one. But those few times Severus had attempted; had stumbled over his words and almost given up, a whispered 'please' urged him on. He knew why Harry needed to hear it. He needed to hear that something good had come from all his sacrifice. Something good had happened for him after everything he'd been through.

Nods were becoming more common, consuming food was a great improvement. Severus had created every dish he could imagine. He was determined to find a dish that Harry would fall in love with; a dish that Harry would be eager to eat. He wanted the boy to relish in the fact he was sustaining himself… Although Severus had noticed that in his more flamboyant dishes; the ones that looked impressive and perfected, Harry would give a small smile to. It wasn't a smile for Severus, it was a smile for himself, and that's what made it wonderful.

Byron was all he read these days. He always checked first, but it was all Harry wanted. When Severus was feeling optimistic, he'd ask Harry if he was sure. He'd normally get a nod, but a 'yes' was murmured now and again.

There was a pivotal moment; a milestone that promised things were getting better. Severus would never forget it. He'd fallen asleep in his chair, Lord Byron's work still in his hands, and felt himself waking from the touch of a small hand shaking his leg. Harry, in all his beautiful glory, was sitting up and shaking his leg gently. When Severus' eyes blinked open, the boy almost looked guilty, but all the potions profession could do was smile the most admiring smile of his life. Harry himself retracted his arm and smiled his small smile. Severus couldn't help but bend forward and kiss the boy on the head. He was elated. Hope and pure joy ran through his veins.

"Thank you, Harry," he said, trying to keep his voice steady and sincere. "It'll be much more comfortable to sleep in my own bed."

Harry, still yet to break eye contact, nodded, before lowering himself back under the covers. Severus smiled again and said goodnight before walking to through the arch to his bed. When he lay in bed, he was sure he heard a very small 'Goodnight'. Severus didn't mind though, even if he'd only imagined it. Harry was returning.

Severus woke earlier, rejuvenated. Today things were going to get better; he just needed to keep the ball running. Keep Harry there with him and away from those thoughts. From the nightmare that was the cursed place. Away from the betrayal of… No, not today. Today Harry would feel better.

He woke the boy softly, smiling as the emerald eyes opened and met his own. They were still dulled, but not quiet, they still held life. Good. It was a good sign that Harry was even giving him eye contact; proving that he was here.

Severus lifted the boy gently; it had been a while since he had prompted Harry to leave the bed.

"I think a bath is in order."

He retracted most care, attempting to allow Harry to hold himself above the water, but holding him steady all the same. The boy seemed too cold… So frail… Though what had been promising, if not a little amusing, was Harry's slight blush as Severus undressed him. Over the past month he had bathed Harry a few times, but this was the first time Harry had blushed. As if the first time he had really been there when it happened.

Severus kept a straight face, chatting freely to Harry about Byron's life. The muggle writer had been prolific to say the least! He lifted Harry back out the water and wrapped him in a heavy towel, hugging it close to the boy's thin form and rubbing his limbs to instill some warmth. Harry was shivering slightly, but then again, he always seemed to be.

Casting a soft spell he dried and warmed Harry, before helping him into some shorts (he was blessed with another blush there) and pulling him into a thick robe. Harry was not very stable on his feet, so Severus carried him back through to the bedroom. Harry's eyes widened slightly when Severus didn't stop and carried on walking out of the room. They were leaving the boundaries of Harry's stay so far… Severus walked purposefully down the staircase and into the kitchen.

Casting a light warming charm on the counters, he placed Harry's frail form on top of one, before casting _Incendio_ on the fire place. Warmth filled the room properly, and Severus began work on breakfast.

"French pancakes Harry?"

Harry didn't say anything, but his eyes stayed on Severus's form… Watching him wander around the kitchen, collecting ingredients, getting out muggle pans and turning on the muggle stove. Severus kept 100 jars or so along his windowsill, each of them containing some different herb, flour, or potions ingredient. No one would dare cook in Severus's kitchen; he kept everything in his own categorized order. You never knew if you were picking up salt or crystal poison. Harry smiled faintly. He liked knowing this. A little insignificant detail about Severus; it was something slightly warm in his head. The first warm thought he'd had in such a long time. He watched Severus pick up a jar. Harry counted it as eleventh from the left – that was either sugar or Severus was planning on poisoning. He threw a critical glance at Severus, and watched as a little sprinkled over the back of the potion master's hand. The man nonchalantly licked it off. Definitely sugar, Harry decided, before closing his eyes and allowing the sounds and smells of Severus's cooking to ebb away at him.

**A.N: ** I really enjoy writing this fiction.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** All JR's –as always, she deserved the credit, not me. ^^

**Rating:** Pffft, no idea. It's slash-ish. I'm just gonna say mature, just in case!

**A.N:** My favourite thing about this fiction is exploring the relationship between Severus & Harry. This shall be quite a slow paced fic.

**Warnings:** Slash. Depression. Un-betaed work, haha! Just, generally not for easily offended eyes.

**Beta:** Recently beta-ed by the wonderful moonlight—kiss (tumblr name) Thank you!

**2.**

Severus decided on one large plate between them. It would take the pressure away from Harry to attempt to feed himself. Severus was worried that with too much pressure to involve himself or openly face his lack of interaction, Harry would just retract back into himself.

It was difficult, this constantly thinking about the wellbeing of another. Severus had always been a very insular person. It wasn't selfish if there was no one to lend his care to, so he just resided to keep his life that way; alone. He ate what, when and however he liked to, and the same went with sleeping, reading and the amount of time he devoted to his potions work. Since his ward had returned, Severus constantly surprised himself at his ability to think of others… Or at least, think of Harry. He would function perfectly normally until he was struck with an idea that would benefit Harry or make the boy happier, and then there was little he could do other than oblige. Now, if he knew of something he could do to could help heal the young saviour, it would be.. Ugly. That was the only word Severus had managed to articulate, so far, about what had happened to the boy. Ugly. Ugly truth.

Harry had kept his eyes shut through Severus' wondering, his mouth closing delicately over the fork that Severus gently nudged his lips with. It was ironic, how ugly the memories Harry would now have. Ironic because he was beautiful. He wasn't beautiful like Lily was beautiful, and definitely wasn't like his father. He hardly resembled the man. James was roguish and overly masculine. He was handsome and smooth; details Severus had memorized when pondering why he'd inevitably lost Lily to the man… But Harry was beautiful. Beautiful like the soil beneath your knees would be in a sunset. His skin was pale, mottled, and wonderful; sun kissed freckles blessing his nose, and his eyes... Eyes that were cited as emerald. Avada Kedavra green. The killing curse, eternally eclipsed in the only eyes that had witnessed it and lived to blink open again. But there was more there. When Harry had opened the emotive portals to Severus, he saw something more organic. A rich overwhelming green, like a canopy of forest trees, breathing and beating. Grown from the earth and all the wonders humans… Muggles... And wizards alike... Could not touch. They say eyes are the windows to someone's soul. Harry's eyes were windows to his true legacy... To be struck, but to still be.

It was an evening when Severus noticed Harry hadn't done any magic since he had returned. In the final battle, Harry had lost his wand. Obliterated in the last stance against the Dark Lord. The three weeks Harry had stayed at Severus before the trial, he had done magic wandlessly with an inspiring ease. Severus had told Harry that it may because of the limits Harry had stretched his magic to; that now a wand was useless to him when it came to focusing his magic. Severus wished they had spoken more about it before, when words still came easily to the boy.

"Harry…" he began. Harry's eyes slowly opened to meet Severus's. "I know I said it may no longer be necessary... But would you like me to get you a wand? A temporary one until you can pick out your own?"

There was a silence, but Severus had expected that. "No." Severus hadn't expected that though.

"Oh... Would you like to try mine?"

"No."

Severus just nodded; Harry was like a tangled chain. You can see the edges so perfectly, even the ends can be found but the large knot in the middle concealed its true form.

"I see. Then perhaps you would like me to begin reading... Byron, I assume?"

"Yes... Yes, please."

Perhaps not all was lost.

Harry listened to the enigmatic words canter from Severus's mouth. It was peaceful. Calm. The words were elegant and Severus was a dignified reader; never once spoiled the content, always in character. It didn't matter that Harry had been away from the muggle world too long to understand the meaning; the context, of much of the man's work... Having Severus read it was enough.

Harry seemed to always be so cold. There was no warmth in his body and he relied upon Severus's heating charms and thick cloaks. It worried Severus incredibly. At least it was spring now, and warmer days laden with summer gently peeked their heads up around noon. Severus had yet dared to take Harry outside, but the new routine brought Harry out of their joint bedroom every day. They began with a warm bath; Harry still blushed as his dignity was revealed to Severus each day, but it was a comforting blush. Harry was still there, and seemed to notice and appreciate Severus obvious attempts to look away.

Harry would sit in the kitchen while Severus made their breakfast before they moved into the conservatory to eat. It _seemed_ like Harry enjoyed being there. Severus allowed the few plants that he favoured to be grown in that room and Harry stared at them pleasantly as they ate.

"Do you enjoy gardening, Harry?"

"No." Severus sighed slightly, he was yet to find much other than Severus reading to him that Harry would admit he 'enjoyed'.

"Well, it isn't for everyone. I've been growing plants since I was quite young..."

"I like plants." Severus smiled; it was always nice when Harry answered without the need of a direct question.

"Ah... So you like the plants, just not the work."

Harry nodded, his eyes passing to the Walking Ivy that was living in a small strawberry bush that day.

"Perhaps you could come with me to the green houses sometime, I promise to be the only one who gardens."

"Yes, please."

Severus had learnt not to push conversation too far; Harry responded better to casual words than interrogation. Progress was slow, but if he added up all the little moments when Harry let himself just... Be… He couldn't help but smile.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer:** All JR's –as always, she deserved the credit, not me. ^^

**Rating:** Pffft, no idea. It's slash-ish. I'm just gonna say mature, just in case!

**A.N:** I loved writing about the greenhouses in this. I will try to bring them back here at some point.

**Warnings:** Slash. Depression. Un-betaed work, haha! Just, generally not for easily offended eyes.

**Beta:** Recently beta-ed by the wonderful moonlight—kiss (tumblr name) Thank you!

**3.**

The next day when Severus took them to the greenhouses, he showed Harry around the more lethal plants before settling him down near the herb garden. Here Severus could get some work done and not worry about Harry getting swallowed by a Tubular Mite or a Smiling Tulip when he wasn't watching.

"Did you see any plants you like, Harry? We could put one in our room."

"Are there any Walking Ivies here?"

"Ah, no. They get a little vicious if you indulge them too much."

"Oh."

"I do have some Sleeping Ivy. It wanders around too, but keeps its feet in its pot."

Harry smiled slightly. "Yes. That would do."

Severus carried Harry and their lunch basket to some herbaceous grass. It smelt like Basil, but purred slightly when you passed your fingers through it. Harry enjoyed stroking it more than he enjoyed the food, but he did pick at a sandwich without any prompting from Severus. It was a silent affair, but much of Severus's life had been so. It was ironic that having Harry there was the loudest his house had ever been.

"I don't know how to say thank you." The words were quiet, but still wonderful; especially as the first set that Harry had decided to come up with himself.

"You don't need to; all I need from you is to get better."

Harry nodded slightly, small rapid movements, and then started to cry. First, silent tears fell, which he tried to rub away, but then he was suddenly sobbing and gasping. Severus pushed away their lunch and hugged the boy. Harry collapsing into the man in return, gripping the cloaked figure and crying into the soft material.

It hurt, acknowledging he was hurt. Coasting along in detachment was okay because if you're not really there, you don't remember anything. He thought he'd just come back a little bit, tell Severus that he was grateful, and fade away again. It didn't work. Now he felt betrayal and sadness crawling up his stomach. It clutched at his heart and built up like a stone in his throat, chills running like ice from his breath down through his blood. Harry felt heavy. The weight of what he was attempting to confront crushing his frail defenses. He collapsed further into Severus' arms. "Why does it make me feel so cold?"

Severus knew this was catharsis. He could feel the repressed emotion rolling off of Harry in waves. The small frame was shaking violently in his arms as large sobs tore from the vulnerable body. It was horrific to bear, but alas a glance of Harry's recovery. Emotion this deep would hopefully root the young saviour to the present.

Severus took Harry back inside, forcing some cooling water down the rasping throat that had now stopped sobbing but instead gasping for air. Sleep was now needed, sleep that would help heal and repair Harry. Severus wasn't naive; this sudden awakening would at first do more harm than good. Harry would be facing what he buried away as it was deemed too horrid to face. He would survive though; he'd survive if it was the last thing Severus managed to accomplish.

Harry was there, just reclusive. The only times Severus was sure that the small brunette wasn't reliving his memories was when he read. Byron placated the boy, allowed him to find peace. Severus was still yet to conclude why, but it worked.

It wasn't always bad. One morning Harry told him he enjoyed gravy soaked into mash potato. They had been eating it ever since. The best part was the subtle smile Harry gave him when Severus announced his pleasure in knowing so. Severus had never been one for praise and affection, but he could see it doing wonders for Harry.

"I don't like meat very much," Harry murmured over his meal. It was lamb with their dish of choice: potato and gravy. Severus cast an enquiring look over at Harry's frame.

"One could see. Did you ever make the effort to find the proteins elsewhere?"

Harry shook his head, while purposely pushing the cooked flesh to the edge of his plate.

"There are many replacements; nuts are a brilliant source... I could even venture to muggle London to see if they have any alternatives...?"

"No!" Fear shot up Harry's spine, Severus was going to leave him?

"No? You don't want to try alternatives? Perhaps I could just find a meat you enjo-"

"No, I mean... Don't go."

Severus nodded, "Of course, we will make do with my larder... It's always more exciting to cook from scratch anyway. Especially now I have someone to feed my concoctions to." Harry smiled tentatively at this. Good. Fear avoided. Harry had become clingier of late. Since he began to openly register his surroundings, he made a point of keeping Severus in them at all times. When the rigid potions master sat close enough, Harry even went as far to clutch hold of his robes.

All of this, the good and the bad, was promising for Harry's recovery. What wasn't was his trembling. Harry had still not been able to keep warm, relying on charms and cloaks to keep at a reasonable temperature. And even then, Severus could see the small boy shaking from the cold. At first it was worrying, then it was concerning... Now it was terrifying. Severus had little choice than to face what was staring in front of him. Harry had been cursed with Deamoninterror.

It shouldn't have been surprising. The few cases recorded (and there had been only a few cases, as only few Dementors actually existed) had all bred from innocents that had been forced to bare the Dementor's breath. Harry had also carried out the tasks needed to cursed. Killed a human soul – no matter how evil, Voldemort was still human, and still possessed a soul – betrayed by his familiars; there was barely a mind in Britain that couldn't be accused of that. And, unfortunately, he had nothing to hold onto... No family, no close friends. No loved one, the only person Harry had was Severus...

He'd have to tell Harry, it was what the boy deserved. The young saviour had been kept in the dark even when he was the one who was expected to prevail. It would be unjust for Severus, whom he hoped Harry trusted, to also hold back such vital information.

**A.N:** Yes.. I made up a curse. I've decided that that is how Dementors exist. ^^. OH, and you ask how someone can kill a human soul AND be innocent to bare a Dementors breath? Well that's the point.. It's so rare that not many people get it!


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer:** All JR's –as always, she deserved the credit, not me. ^^

**Rating:** Pffft, no idea. It's slash-ish. I'm just gonna say mature, just in case!

**A.N:** My friend described this chapter as 'shit gets intense' /laughs.

**Warnings:** Slash. Depression. Just, generally not for easily offended eyes.

**Beta:** Recently beta-ed by the wonderful moonlight—kiss (tumblr name) Thank you!

**4.**

He'd have to tell Harry. It was what the boy deserved. The young saviour had been kept in the dark, even when he was the one who was expected to prevail. It would be unjust for Severus, whom he hoped Harry trusted, to also hold back such vital information.

It was the sounds of life that was currently unnerving him; Harry had been ignorant to the constant ticking, scraping & crashing that life seemed to play to. Azkaban was a silent affair. The screams quickly dissolving into nothing, along with Harry's ability to really hear anything at all. The only sound Harry could really recall over the last few months was Severus. Severus's slow, articulated rumble which chewed gently on the words of great poets and writers. Those words were like a beacon; the beating gaze of a lighthouse guiding Harry to safer pastures. Where such words aided Harry in is uncomfortable place within reality, many other sounds jarred horridly. The revolting sound of a door shutting rattled him relentlessly, along with incessant ticking of any and all clocks. Slightly more mundane noises affected him as well; the shuddering of pipes along with the low calling of a kettle when ready. A few noises did placate him, however; the rhythmical scratching of Severus' quill on parchment, and the warm flickering of a fire accentuated the evening perfectly. The tall potions master sat at one end of the chaise longue, his body lent slightly to the side as he used a book to lean on to write his letter. It must have been important, the letter, as Severus has been silent for the past hour and had very little to do with Harry - except to squeeze the golden boy's calf now and again in a mindless form of assurance. The ex-Gryffindor was content. He lay next to Severus, his head at the opposite side of the seat, his noise buried in his arm in an attempt to avoid the pungent smell of leather – scent was another sense Harry was yet to acclimatize to. Two blankets had been thrown over his slight form and Severus didn't seem to mind that Harry was slowly digging his feet under his robes to steal some of the elder man's body heat.

Severus had finally decided on a plan of action. He'd tell Harry about the illness, but only once he'd began preparations for treating it. Over the past few days he'd been in contact with many of his old colleagues & connections – there was a small conference in London where he could ask for advice as well as a specialty apothecary, which sold ingredients to obscure potions that the everyday potions master didn't keep. It's wasn't that the lot of the ingredients were too expensive or hard to find; it was just that very few potions actually included the need for them. The obtuse root of a blooming day flower was in abundance but rarely needed, although a few other ingredients would be a little more difficult – dried werewolf blood on the leaf of a hollowed oak branch was a revered ingredient indeed. The most worrying obstacle would be leaving Harry by himself, or the painful option of bringing Harry with him and having him face the outside world – neither choice were in the fragile Gryffindor's best interests, but without some form of intervention, soon Severus would be guilty allowing Harry to fall to the illness.

The perplexed man signed his letter with a definite feeling of foreboding. It was now or never; he had to tell Harry about his diagnosis. They'd spoken very little today; a humorous idea when in fact they spent very little time talking at all these days – but the past few hours Severus hadn't felt ready to broach the subject and felt cowardly when attempting to say anything else to the mentally contorted boy. With a decisive sigh, he stood and walked to the window of his small study come library. Opening the wooden frame caused a few white doves to startle and fly from the window ledge – only to be replaced by a grand masked owl, happy to nibble at Severus's nimble fingers as he tied the letter to the bird's sturdy foot. A quick stroke and a few owl treats later, the owl had taken flight, accepting his former colleague's invitation for Severus to stay with him in two weeks' time. Now or never.

Severus finally met Harry's eyes. The boy had been watching him – like he often did when Severus did anything unannounced. The mood in the room finally felt stiff, but it was probably Snape's imagination – he hoped.

"Harry…" he begun. There was too much distance between them however, so he crossed the space and helped the slight boy sit up straight.

"This isn't easy for me to say. I... I have something to tell you-"

"You're leaving me." The words were small but frantic; a frightful mixture of sheer panic and resigned fate.

"No. Never, Harry..." Severus still felt like they were too far apart, he could feel the coldness seeping off Harry, alongside the sorrow and isolation. It was vital that Severus explained the illness, but right now it just felt like hurting the forlorn Gryffindor needlessly. In attempt to increase their nearness, the tall professor knelt before the sofa and took one of Harry's feet into his lap, his hands rung against the cotton socks, willing his heat to pass across.

"I have something to tell you Harry." It was then that Severus tried to tell Harry what was happening to him. For a boy of so few words, Severus stuttered over answers to questions that hadn't even been voiced. It got worse when the proud Slytherin told him that he'd be going for a few days, to which Harry exclaimed no, promising that he'd rather die with Severus than be alone. That was not an option Severus would ever be willing to take, and he rode out the tears with Harry as he tried to convince the man not to go. The night was long and the tears were many. Harry had finally fallen asleep in emotionally drained faint – allowing Severus to restock the fire and regroup.

It was fucking awful; all of it. His own childhood, the ease he'd been ensnared into Voldemort's grasps, the war, all the war and death and violence... And Harry. All the bad things that had happened to Harry. The betrayal, the lack of love that had surrounded the boy, it was fucking awful – life was awful and needless to Severus; everything in it… Except Harry. This mess of sadness and fear, which only wanted to escape and die with Severus by his side. Harry deserved so much more than a bitter man like himself – and Severus had done too many evils for the greatest treasure of Harry's reliance. It was just all so fucking awful. They'd make it though, Severus would help Harry through the illness and all the way until he didn't need him anymore – until Harry could find something as beautiful and selfless as the spirit he was… Not that Severus was sure another one could exist on this cursed planet.

**A.N:** A veryvery hard chapter to write… This fic. Is going to end up quite long I see… What did you think? Please review.


	5. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer:** All JR's –as always, she deserved the credit, not me. ^^

**Rating:** Pffft, no idea. It's slash-ish. I'm just gonna' say mature, just in case!

**A.N:** This is quite a sad chapter I think..

**Warnings:** Slash. Depression. Just, generally not for easily offended eyes.

**6.**

Severus knew it was a little bit too much of a cliché, actually, he was fully aware of the pathetic fallacy of it all. Any minute now a shard of light would illuminate the small bundle shivering by his doorstep, and he'd know that it was all truly a little too ridiculous. But at the same time, he felt like it made sense, now all he had to do was pick it up.

Harry was still in bed that day, the emotional outbursts from the night before had taken it out of him, so he didn't see the most peculiar battle of wills that the former potions master had ever become embroiled in, take place. When Severus did finally appear at his door however, he was holding an incredibly miserable black kitten – not that Harry was initially certain it was a kitten – at first it just looked like a damp cloth that was determined to escape from Severus' rather large hands.

"I have found another dark haired reprobate for our home" Severus didn't seem as enthusiastic as most people are when deciding to get a pet, the kitten truly did not look like it wanted to be near the tall man and Harry definitely did not want something to take Severus' mind off him... But he did like the idea that this was their home. He even cracked a small smile when the retched thing finally bit the Slytherin and bolted under Harry's bed, although Severus' immediate concern about its whereabouts wasn't too affirming.

"Why?" Harry's meek voice littered the air slightly far off, as Severus began to delve under the bed blindly – only to be swiped viciously at by the now traumatised kitten – he couldn't help but feel that perhaps this hadn't been the worst idea.

"You could use each other's company while I'm away for a few days" Harry didn't seem very pleased at this idea, he mentally scowled at the small feline; as if it was the cat's fault that Severus was going to leave.

The next few days an erratic pattern began to develop between the three of them, Severus spent most of his time chasing the kitten trying to convince it to: clean, eat or just stay near him; the kitten decided that it hated Severus and constantly tried to evade him, while trying to convince Harry to hold him, following the young brunette whenever it wasn't occupied with escaping for the potions master and Harry did everything he could to outrightly ignore the kitten while trying to maintain Severus' attention. Severus could see this, and although he knew it probably wasn't healthy for any of them, it did mean that Harry had to make a more constant effort to involve himself. Whether it be pushing the kitten off the sofa where it was trying to clamber onto his lap... Or to try and push himself onto Severus' lap when the man was manhandling the cat onto his own.

Although, Harry's tendency to look for Severus before making any choices of his own wasn't good for him.. As much as it felt good – wonderful, blessed – having Harry need him, it wasn't good for the boy, and that's all that really mattered. Perhaps a few days away would be healthy for them, perhaps it'd show Harry that he didn't need Severus so much.

It was night before his journey to London, Harry had been clingier than usual. He'd had an awful episode early that day, fitting in his sleep and in turmoil for the past 7 hours, they'd finally calmed down with the two of them curled in an arm chair – Severus slowly passing his fingers through Harry's fine hair, while reciting Byron from memory. He almost decided not to go, that it wasn't safe, that Harry would be set back months if left by himself.. But was that really any worse than the prospect of him not being cured? No... It was his own anguish that would be quelled if he stayed, not Harry's, even if the boy didn't realise it.

"I think it's time we get some rest"

"I don't want today to end"

"That I do not doubt.. But it's better than we're well rested for the morning"

Harry didn't agree, but allowed himself to be lifted into Severus' arms. The kitten meowed dejectedly from being disturbed from its sleeping place – the folds of Harry's blankets – but trotted diligently behind them as they made their way to the bedroom.

Soft words passed between them, Severus doing all he could to assure Harry – promise him that one night and he'd be back, one night and he'd be here again and with Harry's only chance of a cure. He was so proud of the boy, so mesmerised at the small strength that would crest and trough, so terrified at the vulnerability that constantly flitted through those green green eyes. He had to go, he had to.

In the morning he left without saying goodbye, it was healthier for them not to make a big production of it. He hoped anyway.

-1 day later-

He probably shouldn't have left.

There was blood everywhere, he wasn't even sure how. Severus knew that the backlash was going to be awful, he knew that Harry's trust in him was going to have wavered.. That the boy was going to regret taking the steps forward they'd made together, that the stupid cat would have done nothing in aiding Harry's apathy.. But he didn't think it'd turn out like this.

Severus bolted across the room, grasping the boy – willing him to stop crying him, twisting the limbs in front of him trying to locate the source of the blood that littered the sheets, floor, and flesh – but Harry just kept screaming.

"Harry, Harry please come back to me.. What happened? What happened?"

But the Gryffindor just kept screaming, Severus was probably going to have to knock him out with a sleep potion just to let the boys lungs rest..

"DEAD!" That's all Severus could make out, it was traumatising. Harry had never been so vocal, so engaged in his upset.. Perhaps this was worse than the silent fitting from the first days.. From the soundless screams that kept them on edge for days.. Harry couldn't seem to stop keening.

"I killed him Severus" and then it made sense.

A dreamless sleep potion later, and Severus finally managed to locate the source of all that blood. A small wilted form, lost in the sheets that had once been the small felines bed. There was a large shard of glass protruding from its side and its body was stiff from rigor motes. Severus couldn't believe his stupidity. He'd signed the little creature's death warrant when he'd left him with Harry, especially after all those days of jealousy and contempt that had bred between them.. But the Gryffindor was so delicate, so caring, it would have been betrayal to think such a thing of his patient. Patient. That's what Severus should have remembered.. Harry wasn't well.

They buried the kitten the next day, they'd never named him before so they didn't do so now. The small box settled beneath the grass that they'd so oft had picnicked on. Harry had lain over the now covered grave, whispering his apologies, repeatedly asking for forgiveness.

The story of what happened had came out slowly, Harry had felt so guilty and struck with the reality of what had happened, that even when he did decide to say something – very little had come out.

It was just an accident; of course it was just an accident. A bad night, the kitten crying, Harry throwing everything away from him, including the strength potions that had shattered and wounded their small counter part... Harry too unwell to notice, never lone aid the dying feline.. He'd assumed he'd been dreaming the blood.. Until he realised that the house really had gone quiet.

"I didn't really want him to go"

"I know Harry, it was an accident"

"I wasn't really annoyed at him, I just-just.."

"It's ok Harry, you never knew this would have happened.. I shouldn't have left you alone with him"

"I wish he'd never met me"

It was awful that the most Harry had ever said was in grief, the accident had changed things. Suddenly Harry was scared that his own actions would hurt others, that he needed to get better.. But that didn't stop the death being any less ugly, or memory any less painful. Harry did look any worse in Severus' eyes, he was just as beautiful and pure, it was just another example where someone had let him down.. And Severus couldn't stand it, that this time it had been him.

**A.N: **Just in case anyone didn't really get this from my story, I think animal cruelty is disgusting. I myself am vegan & would never condone the mistreatment of animals. I think the majority of Severus & Harry's behaviour to the kitten was wrong – and that no one should treat an animal in their care that way.

How I got here, was that I thought about adding an animal but I knew that Harry wasn't ready yet and that Severus was too selfish and wrapped up in Harry to understand what another body (even if feline) would mean. So there's the consequence, writing it actually made me really sad.


End file.
